


The Trouble With Lordships

by Duender, IvoryRaven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack fic curing its hangover with more alcohol, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gratuitously Hot Voldemort, Like really slow, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duender/pseuds/Duender, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryRaven/pseuds/IvoryRaven
Summary: ….Just read it.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 49
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkkBluee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkkBluee/gifts), [Bastassine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastassine/gifts).



> This idea is the brain child of Blue, and this work has been possible because of Blue, Bast, and Ivory. I just helped Ivy write it.  
> 

Harry really wasn’t expecting an official-looking letter from Gringotts that morning. Or, in fact, any letters. The only two people who usually sent him letters were sitting right next to him. But there it was, sealed with wax and the official Gringotts seal.

“Have you been expecting any letters, Harry?” Hermione asked, looking up from the five thousand pages she called ‘light reading.’

“No,” said Harry, examining the envelope, turning it this way and that. There was no indication as to what it might be about on the outside, not that he was expecting there to be. He hadn’t received any letters from Gringotts before. Deciding the letter wasn’t going to kill him or explode in his face, he opened it.

“What does it say?” asked Hermione, turning a page of the book she had abandoned her breakfast for. 

Ron looked up, too, although his mouth was full of bacon and he couldn’t say anything.

“I haven’t read it yet,” snarked Harry, tugging the folded-up parchment out of the envelope. He cleared his throat and began to read out loud:

_Mr. Potter,_

_This is to inform you that there have been some changes to your accounts. Please report to Gringotts at your earliest convenience._

_Gringotts,_

_Diagon Alley Branch_

“Changes?” Ron asked. “Who’s changing your stuff? S’not like you’ve got parents fiddling with your allowance.”

Hermione turned to stare at him, aghast. “Ronald!”

“Oh, sorry Harry,” said Ron, turning pink. Harry absently noted that the colour wasn’t very flattering on the redhead.

Harry stared at the letter in his hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I suppose I’ve got to go.”

“You should go to Professor Dumbledore!” Hermione said at once. Harry supposed she was right.

“I’ll go after Transfiguration,” Harry decided. Professor McGonagall’s wrath was legendary, and not something he was willing to subject himself to, even for something as important-looking as this.

“As long as you’re back in time for Potions,” said Hermione, her brown eyes narrowing. “You can’t go about missing lessons!”

“It’s Potions!” exclaimed Ron. “Of course he’s going to skip it!”

Hermione looked reproachfully at Ron. Harry didn’t say it aloud, but although he wasn’t planning to spend a long time talking to Professor Dumbledore, he didn’t object to the idea of missing a class with Snape. 

___________________________

As soon as Transfiguration finished, Harry hurried to the Headmaster’s office. He stopped short in front of the gargoyle statue, realizing he didn’t have the password.

“I need to talk to the Headmaster!” Harry huffed, a little winded from his trip. The statue didn’t bat a carved lash. “Right, password. What is it Professor Dumbledore usually uses as passwords? Oh, yes… sweets!”

“Blood Pops? Lemon Drops? Chocolate frogs?” he tried. “Chocolate éclairs? Mint humbugs? _Marshmallows?!_ ”

The gargoyle sprung aside, revealing the revolving staircase.

“Hmm, marshmallows isn’t a bad choice,” Harry mused as he rode the staircase to the office.

___________________________

  
  


He knocked.

“Come in!” called Professor Dumbledore. Nervously, Harry opened the door and stepped in.

“Ah, Harry! Nice to see you this fine day. And what can I do for you?”

Harry looked down at his feet. “Um. Well, the thing is, sir, I got a letter today - a letter from Gringotts. It said my accounts have been changed, or something like that, and that I should go there ‘at my earliest convenience.’” 

“I see,” said Professor Dumbledore. “Well, my boy, we can’t go around ignoring letters from Gringotts. I suppose you will have to miss your next class.”

Harry was startled. The Headmaster was advising him to skip classes? Hermione would be horrified! “I should go now?” 

“Why, yes! It said at your earliest convenience, didn’t it?” Blue eyes twinkled from behind half-moon spectacles.

“Yes, but I still have classes left for the day, Headmaster!” 

Only Potions and DADA, both of which he had no problem skipping, considering they were taught by the devil and the she-devil, but it was not like he could go around telling teachers that. 

“Pish posh, I’m sure you will have no trouble catching up with your peers. If you’re ready?” the wizened man stood up from behind his desk and gestured towards his fireplace.

“I - yes,” said Harry. “I am.”

“Wonderful! We’ll travel by Floo. I assume you know how to use it?” At Harry’s nod, Dumbledore directed him to the pot of Floo powder next to the fireplace.

“Say ‘Gringotts, Diagon Alley’. Very clearly,” Dumbledore instructed.

It wasn’t very necessary, as after Harry’s accidental trip to Knockturn Alley, he had been much more careful with his pronunciations.

Dumbledore gestured for Harry to go first. 

“Gringotts, Diagon Alley,” Harry said clearly as he stepped into the fire, not realizing the words were going to change his life.

___________________________

  
  


“Ah, Mr. Potter,” a goblin teller behind one of the desks said with a toothy grin when he was approached. “We were expecting you.”

Harry nervously took out his letter. “Yes, I was called. May I know why?”

The teller stared at Dumbledore. “It will be a private meeting, only you can enter the room.”

Dumbledore frowned a bit, before putting a hand on his student’s shoulder. 

“Very well. Harry, I shall wait here for you,” he said.

___________________________

Harry was nervous about following the goblin without the Headmaster, but he didn’t want to cause a scene, and he supposed that he would have to become used to handling his own affairs. He wasn’t going to stay a child forever, after all! 

___________________________

The goblin took him into a private room with a desk in the middle, and a chair on either side of it. There was another goblin already there, waiting. 

“Your Account Manager, Mr. Potter,” said the first goblin, before leaving and shutting the door behind him with an ominous click.

“Greetings, Mr. Potter. I am your account manager Gorehilt. I assume you are here about the recent developments in your accounts,” the goblin behind the desk said as he gestured for the boy to sit.

“Yeah,” said Harry, nodding as he took the seat offered to him. “I got this letter this morning and came as soon as I could.” He tried to pass the missive to the goblin, but Gorehilt waved it off.

“I know what it says, child, I was the one to send it! Now, on to the important matters. Several of the Lordships you will be eligible for when you reach seventeen, the wizarding age of inheritance, have been claimed. As of yesterday afternoon, the Lordships of the Houses of Peverell, Gryffindor, and Potter have been claimed by Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Slytherin. As the last surviving member of aforementioned Houses, you are now to be his ward.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Greatest Dark Lord (with a capital G) of all time was definitely not eavesdropping on the conversation taking place inside the private room in Gringotts. Nope. Nada. Not at all. So when he heard his name, he straightened his robes, ran a hand through his newly acquired curls, and swept in with billowing robes. 

Seeing the surprise and growing horror on his new ward’s face as he processed the information he had just been told and connected it to the Dark Lord, made him cackle with glee on the inside. On the outside, he maintained the cold mask all Slytherins were known for. Except that Malfoy boy. He was an open book. Sometimes (or really whenever it occurred to him), he thought Lucius spoilt the brat too much.

It didn’t take long for his new ward to notice him. When he realized he and the goblin were no longer the only two beings there, he whirled around, holly wand in hand.

And promptly froze in surprise, eyes fixed on the Dark Lord’s face.

“Hello, Harry Potter,” said the Greatest Dark Lord of all time, keeping his expression smooth and blank. If he hadn’t practiced the emotionless mask for years, he would have been rolling around on the floor laughing.

His ward squeaked. Actually squeaked.

“Well, aren’t you a cowardly lion,” the Dark Lord commented, waiting for the glimmer of recognition in the boy’s eyes. He waited. And waited. And waited. But no such glimmer came.

“Weren’t you muggle raised?” Severus had said so. Spoilt rotten by his muggle relatives (who he would no longer be seeing). The other spoilt child the Dark Lord knew was so incredibly funny to tease and threaten - Draco Malfoy was a built-in entertainment system when the Dark Lord got bored with Crucio-ing his Death Eaters. 

“Yeah,” said Harry warily. “I was. So what?”

“Haven’t you ever read the Wizard of Oz?”

The boy actually had the nerve to roll his eyes at him. Him! The greatest Dark Lord there had ever been! 

“No!” said the boy as if it was obvious. “What, you think the Dursleys read books?” He snorted to himself.

Marvolo raised an eyebrow. Even _he_ had read the Wizard of Oz (after sneaking away from the demoness called Matron to buy it from the money he had nicked from her). But more importantly, who were the Dursleys?  
“I assume you mean your family?” he questioned. Also, why on earth was the brat so calm?!

Harry, now that his heart was not beating so erratically, paused to take in the man in front of him, and did a double-take. No wonder his aura felt so similar! Staring back at him was the face of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“When did you get a nose?” he blurted out. Red eyes narrowed, and the man made a move to take out his wand. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry quickly back-tracked. “Yes, the Dursleys are my family on my mother’s side.”

Marvolo looked the boy up and down, and that’s when he noticed. The baggy clothes, the too lean body. Yes, the boy wouldn’t have gotten any books from his relatives for sure. Well, it wasn’t like he was going to be going back anytime soon.  
“As I am your new guardian, Potter, you will be living with me. Let’s go back to Hogwarts and get your things, hmm?”

Inwardly, Marvolo laughed gleefully. The Potter brat was now in his grasp.

Harry looked at the man in confusion and slowly dawning horror.

Marvolo grinned a toothy grin. “As I am your new guardian, boy,” he said, slightly confused at said boy’s flinch but putting it down to his presence, “You will be residing with me. And as your new guardian, I have made the decision to withdraw you from Hogwarts.”

“What!” shrieked Harry, outraged. “You can’t do that! My education! It’s not finished! And my friends are there!”

Marvolo stared at the boy, eyes glinting a cool crimson. “I very well can do that,” he said. “After all, _I just have.”_

The boy’s mouth was wide open now. He was staring in horror, looking rather like a catfish with glasses.

“As for your education, you will complete it at my private residence. You do not need friends to entertain you when you are devoted to your studies, _which you will be._ ”

He made sure to make it sound like a threat. He couldn’t have people thinking that he, the Greatest Dark Lord of all time, was losing his touch! But of course he mustn’t be too… _threatening_ , this boy was a child.

And what a childhood he would have! Marvolo cackled to himself.

“But you’re the Dark Lord!” Harry protested, and Marvolo cracked an amused smile.

“I see you’ve noticed.”

“So - so you can’t just have teachers coming to your house!”

Marvolo sniffed. “I don’t live in a house, Harry, I live in a _mansion,_ thank you very much. And I am much more well-connected than you might think.” To prove his point, he flashed his many Lordship rings, letting them glint magnificently in the Gringotts torchlight.

Harry looked at the goblin, ‘Gorehilt,’ he’d told the boy his name was, with the same helpless look in his eyes that one might see in a rabbit just spotted by a fox, or a Muggle running from a Death Eater. “Won’t you stop him!” he squeaked. Marvolo didn’t think the squeak sounded anything like a sound one might imagine the great ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ and ‘Chosen One’ to make. It sounded like a baby mouse, blind and helpless, crying for its mother!

“I will not,” intoned the goblin. “Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Slytherin’s claim is entirely legal and legitimate.”

“Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Slytherin,” whispered the boy. “Good Merlin! That’s a long name! And you’re - Lord _Potter? How?_ ”

Marvolo would have shrugged if it weren’t such a plaebian gesture. “I won the title,” he drawled, in his Dark Lord voice that he used for explaining things for exceptionally slow Death Eaters, “by conquest. In words you would understand, I killed Lord Potter, therefore I am Lord Potter.”

“I’m not stupid!” Harry complained. “And I’m not a small child, so don’t speak to me as if I am!”

“You are a child, though,” Marvolo said. “My child, to be exact.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed in a glare, but he said nothing. After all, he would be seventeen in just a year or so - or was it months now? No, it was a year, Marvolo remembered, the boy had been born at the end of July… That was rude of him, to be thinking about challenging him for his Lordships only a few minutes into their meeting. He stared down at the boy, who stared back with just as much intensity in those striking green eyes. The boy was stubborn indeed.

Marvolo snapped his fingers. “Get moving, Potter, I don’t have all day,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t?” Harry said in mock surprise. “I thought you had nothing to do these days except mope around about me escaping your clutches unscathed. Again.”

The Dark Lord growled, and before anyone could blink, his wand was in his hands.

Gorehilt jumped to his feet. “No wands in Gringotts,” he snarled at the two wizards. “Take your family feud out of here.”

“We’re leaving,” Marvolo told the boy. “Come on.” He turned and moved towards the door, his robes flaring just like Snape’s did.

“But Professor Dumbledore! He brought me here! He’ll know you’ve gone and kidnapped me! I can’t leave him here,” Harry said, but he couldn’t help following the older wizard, something compelling him to do so.

“I hardly call it kidnapping; you are legally my ward. And _Professor Dumbledore-”_ he spat the name as though it was a cockroach that had crawled into his mouth - “is a perfectly _competent_ wizard. He can and will leave alone.” Marvolo would not grace his enemy - the older one, at least - with anything that might resemble a compliment. 

___________________________

Albus was glad he had brought some lemon drops to suck on as he sat in the Gringotts’ main hall, greeting old students and new parents alike as they walked past. Harry had been gone a long time, and he sincerely hoped the young boy was alright.

“I wonder what they needed to tell him,” he muttered, running a hand through his long beard. It was something he had to do periodically lest it get tangled and unruly. He had toyed with the idea of braiding it, but thought that might make him resemble a vicious Viking. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head. _Dorea is the only one who can pull it off._ He shook his head. ‘Who’s Dorea?’ he thought, confused as to where the thought had come from. His occlumency barriers seemed intact…..

 _Dorea is a goddess, she is everywhere_. Dumbledore jumped to his feet. 

‘Hearing voices is the first step to insanity,’ he thought warily. He popped another lemon drop in his mouth. ‘Hopefully it’s just boredom,’ he thought, mentally crossing his fingers. Perhaps he should have snagged a magazine when they had come in. That might have distracted him. He took a few steps towards the stand where the Goblins kept the standard Wizarding publications, but before he could get far the door Harry had gone into opened and the sound of voices flowed into the foyer.

To his absolute shock and horror, Tom Riddle was stepping out of the room, hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked utterly horrified, a feeling Dumbledore could certainly empathise with. Riddle just looked smug, eyes meeting Dumbledore’s. “Home we go,” he said, loudly, and Dumbledore knew he was doing it to attract his ire.

He gave in, wanting to defend his student.

“Just where do you think you’re taking him?” he demanded, wand in hand.

“Home,” said Riddle, knuckles white from their grip on Harry’s shoulder. Dumbledore was surprised the boy wasn’t wincing from the pain.

He opened his mouth to disarm the Dark Lord, but before he could a goblin was standing in front of him, looking very stern. “No wands in Gringotts!” said the goblin.

“That is the Dark Lord!” said Dumbledore. “He is kidnapping Harry Potter! I’ve got to stop him!”

“He is doing no such thing. He is exercising his right as the boy’s guardian!”

“Harry’s what?” 

Harry spoke up, desperation evident in his voice. “Professor, he’s Lord Potter now, he’s my guardian!”

Dumbledore’s jaw dropped. “Wha- How?” he asked weakly, stumbling a step back.

Marvolo sneered at the sight of his ex-Headmaster, but couldn’t miss this opportunity to gloat.

“It’s Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Slytherin,” Marvolo said. “To both of you. I have simply claimed the Lordships I was informed I was eligible for when I came here to activate the Slytherin accounts. I needed the influence… oh, yes, Dumbledore, I have my fingers dipped in every department of the ministry. My people are putting laws through as we speak. I am everywhere. Your downfall approaches!” Cue the evil laughter he had spent months perfecting back in sixth year. _Practice makes perfect,_ Marvolo thought as his laugh made both boy and teacher flinch.

Dumbledore stared at him. “How in Merlin’s name did you gain Potter, Peverell and Gryffindor?” he demanded.

Marvolo debated leaving without an explanation, but he couldn’t give up the opportunity to rub his success in his old professor's face. 

“Peverell has always been mine,” he said, smirking his Evil Smirk (capital E and S, it was that important). “The Slytherin-Gaunt line descended from the middle brother after all. As we all know, Antioch was… eliminated before he had spawns, leaving Cadmus’ line to inherit. And before you say anything,” he quickly continued when he saw Dumbledore open his mouth. “The Gaunts lost it to the Potters, but well. I’m Lord Potter now, aren’t I?”

Harry scowled. “He won the Potter Lordship because he killed my father,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting spectacularly. Dumbledore stood dumbfounded.

“Of course,” the old man said weakly. “The Potters are descendants of Godric Gryffindor, and James could have claimed it…..”

Marvolo couldn’t have planned this day better. He had woken up to cold tea and his house-elf had been sick. He couldn’t bring himself to curse the pathetic thing, not when it had been a better servant than all of his Death Eaters combined. So he had left ~~it~~ her in her cupboard and sat through his cold breakfast. Everyone knew you couldn’t reheat cold food without spoiling it, only elf magic could do that. So he had drunk the cold tea and eaten the cold toast, making a mental note to torture Wormtail for an extra fifteen minutes. 

After the disastrous morning, he had been sure that the rest of the day was going to be just as bad. And then he had received the call from Gringotts, telling him that his ward had arrived.

Snapping back to the present, he glared at Dumbledore.

“If you’ll excuse us, my ward has belongings to collect from Hogwarts.”

“From Hogwarts? Surely he can’t have developed an urgent need to dispose of something?” Dumbledore sounded suspicious, but also desperate. 

Marvolo smiled gleefully. “Oh, yes. From Hogwarts. I have made the decision to withdraw my ward from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I prefer to have him finish his education elsewhere, where he does not run the risk of being killed on the regular!”

Of course, it was he who usually threatened the boy’s life, but that was besides the point. Dumbledore should take better care of his students! 

That bomb dropped, he tightened his grip on the Boy-Who-Lived’s shoulder and steered him towards the floo.

Dumbledore stared after them, before snapping to his senses and hurrying after the two.


	3. Chapter 3

Marvolo tossed a handful of floo powder into the busily crackling fire, and said, “Severus Snape’s chambers, Hogwarts!” He dragged Harry through with him, just in case the boy had any ideas about escaping. 

Snape had been reading peacefully in his chambers when his Floo chimed. He wondered who in Merlin’s name would need to reach him, in particular, on this ordinary afternoon? Surely not Lucius and Narcissa - for once, their son was perfectly fine, and if it were anyone else’s parents they would have Owled. It couldn’t be the Dark Lord, surely; if Voldemort wanted to speak to him, he would use the Dark Mark?

He hurried to the outer chambers and stopped dead in his tracks. Emerging from his Floo was Potter, with someone Snape didn’t recognize. The stranger was tall, with dark curls neatly arranged on top of his head, and ruby eyes. 

“Potter!” Snape spat. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” said the Potter brat sarcastically. “Maybe I decided to be forcefully - ah!”

The yelp was caused by the stranger suddenly digging his fingers into Potter’s shoulders. Snape narrowed his eyes. Was that considered child abuse?

“ _We_ are retrieving my ward’s belongings,” said the stranger, in a voice that was dark, smooth and strangely familiar.

“I thought Potter lived with Muggles,” challenged Snape. “Muggles don’t use the Floo and can’t come into Hogwarts. So tell me, who are you?” Snape sneered and looked the man up and down, easily taking in the expensive robes and dragon-hide boots. “Potter’s new sugar daddy?”

Marvolo narrowed his eyes at his disrespectful minion. An idea came to his mind, and he grinned evilly, almost laughing when he saw Snape stiffen. A thought, and the Potions Professor’s Dark Mark began searing.

He saw Snape flinch, and smirked. “Now, Severus. Do continue the thought. Your mind conjures the most fascinating scenarios.” 

Snape swallowed. “M-my Lord?” 

Marvolo looked at his minion. The man had good composure; his Mark must be in agony. But Snape wasn’t immune to the effects, as evidenced by his pale, drawn face and clenched jaw.

“Good day, Severus,” he said in a mocking tone. “If you’ll excuse us,” he continued, shoving Harry out of the chambers.

It was a long way from the Potions Master’s quarters to Gryffindor Tower. Classes for the day, Marvolo assumed, must be out. Students were everywhere, like ants invading a house in spring, sitting on windowsills, lurking in groups against walls, and walking in clumps. 

By the time he and Harry arrived at Gryffindor Tower, practically half the Gryffindors they had passed were following them, trying their best to be discreet and failing miserably. 

‘The day Gryffindors become discreet is the day I stop being a Dark Lord,’ Marvolo thought. “Well?” he asked as they stopped in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Password?”

“WAIT!” A voice rang out in the hallway. Marvolo held in a sigh as Dumbledore hurried up the stairs, followed closely by Severus and - was that Minnie McGonagall? He couldn’t help but smugly flick his dark curls back as he noticed her grey and white hair. She noticed the movement and frowned at him, which only highlighted her emerging wrinkles. He suppressed the urge to cackle.

“Yes, _Headmaster_ , how may I help you?” he asked as the wizened wizard finally made it to where he stood with the boy and half of Gryffindor.

“Students! I must warn you that this man is not what he seems! This is the Dark Lord Voldemort!” shouted Dumbledore. “Don’t panic!”

The students certainly weren’t panicking. In fact, they were now all peering at Marvolo and whispering to each other.

Harry could hear Parvati and Lavender gossiping somewhere in the crowd.

“If that’s Voldemort, I would definitely go Dark!” one of them whispered to the other.

Dumbledore’s forehead was shiny with sweat. He couldn’t have his children go Dark! 

He tried again. “You can’t take him with you, Tom, it’s kidnapping!”

Marvolo couldn’t help but scoff. “What are you going to do, arrest me? Call the ministry if you wish, we’ll just get going.” Having had enough of this, he leaned down and whispered in Potter’s ear, “Get moving or I’ll curse them all.” He wouldn’t, really, he just wanted to go back home and pour himself a large drink, but the brat didn’t need to know that!

The threat was effective. Potter told the Fat Lady the password - “Blubbering Humdinger” - and they were in. 

“Lead the way, Potter,” he commanded, and the boy did, taking the steps two at a time to save his friends. His courage would be admirable if it weren’t misguided. 

Deciding to let the boy have his last few minutes of privacy, he looked around the common room, and immediately regretted it. Goodness gracious, how did this lot survive in all this red and bright gold? No wonder they weren’t that good at studying, they were probably too blinded to read the textbooks!

Minerva couldn’t believe her eyes. Tom Marvolo Riddle was in Hogwarts. And he was Voldemort, if Dumbledore’s word could be trusted. Why in Merlin’s name did he not tell her earlier? She remembered something the old goat had told her on the way to Gryffindor Tower.

“Voldemort!” she exclaimed, brandishing her wand as she entered her common room, only to see the Dark Lord lounging on a couch. He raised an (elegant, seemingly sculpted, damn him!) eyebrow at her.

Embarrassed, she put her wand down but plowed on. “If you gained the Potter Lordship by killing James, Harry should have gotten all your Lordships when he killed you!”

The room’s temperature dropped by a few degrees, before Marvolo laughed a cold laugh that left no doubt in the audience that he was indeed The Dark Lord.

“I’m immortal, death shall never touch me,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “I still stand here today, don’t I?”

She looked closely at him. He certainly looked real, and not at all a ghost. “Necromancy?” she offered, although she knew her argument was very weak.

He laughed. “Really, Minnie, you know better than that. If the undead could claim Lordships, there wouldn’t be any living Lords and Ladies today. We wouldn’t need a Wizengamot. Sessions would be held in graveyards.”

The dark humor drew some whimpers from the younger and the more sensitive students. Marvolo mentally rolled his eyes (he wouldn’t do that physically, that was such a plebian move). Ridiculous Gryffindors!

A cough from the staircase drew everyone’s attention. Harry stood there with a bag and his trunk.

Marvolo got to his feet. “Time to go, then,” he said. “Goodbye, Minnie.” He headed to the portrait hole, Harry following him, at a snail’s pace, looking around the common room with teary eyes.

Marvolo looked back at him with an annoyed look. “Hurry up, Potter! And for Merlin’s sake, stop with the tears.”

Harry looked at him with big wide eyes. “Can I see Ron and Hermione one last time?”

Marvolo sighed. “For goodness’ sake, Potter, you’re leaving, not dying.” The boy simply continued staring at him with a pout. Marvolo pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine! But make it quick.” No sooner had he spoken, Potter left his trunk at the portrait hole and tore down the hallway.

“Ron! Hermione!” Potter yelled as he ran. Marvolo sighed. Seems like he would need to instill some habits in his ward too. Was this really going to be worth it?

It would be, he reminded himself. He was Lord Voldemort. He would make it worth it.

Deciding that waiting in a hallway was unbecoming for a Dark Lord, he turned to Dumbledore.

“Lead the way to your office, old man, then you can calm your ancient heart that I’m not going to harm anyone. Getting a heart attack is not the way I want you to go.”

___________________________

The silence in the Headmaster’s office was more awkward than stifling. Dumbledore had tried to offer everyone a sweet, but they had turned it down.

 _Some sugar would do them much good,_ Dumbledore thought sadly as he thread his fingers together and placed them on his desk. _Tom doesn’t seem to care that he is here, Minerva looks as put together as always, and poor Severus looks like he would rather play chaperone to Harry at the moment, though I don’t blame him._

Minerva cleared her throat. “You wanted us to come here…” she trailed off as though she wasn’t sure how to address Tom. 

Tom smiled, a disturbing smile especially on such a handsome face. “Yes,” he said. “To discuss your compliance with my plans.”

Minerva snarled like a cat. “Our _compliance?_ You must be out of your mind, Tom Riddle!” 

His smile disappeared as fast as it had come. “Don’t call me that filthy muggle name,” he hissed. Taking a deep breath, Tom glared at her. “I most certainly am not out of my mind! Remember that I have your precious Boy Savior in my grasp. It behooves you to be very careful.”

Minerva was visibly hissing and spitting like her animagus form, but she didn’t say anything.

Dumbledore tried to calm everyone down. “Now, Tom,” he said, ignoring the snarl directed at him. “What do you hope to achieve by taking Harry as your ward, kill him as soon as he turns 17?”

Marvolo snorted. “I have no need to kill him as long as he is not a part of the war anymore. Fear not, your Golden Boy will be well taken care of.”

Minerva’s mutter of “Cared for prisoners are still prisoners” was heard clearly in the silent room.

Severus was very carefully not looking at anyone in the room, seeming to find a spot on the wall interesting enough.

Tom studied Minerva’s frown. “He will not be my prisoner, Minerva, he will be my heir.”

Dumbledore stared at him over half-moon spectacles. “You will make him your heir?” he asked, astounded.

“I will,” confirmed Tom. Dumbledore blinked. Once. Twice. “What?”

“You have been trying to kill the poor boy for years!”

His former student levelled him with a sharp, ruby stare. “I am now his guardian. So long as he stays out of the war - which he will be - I have no need to kill him.”

Dumbledore sighed. “And what about the war? Will you still continue it?”

“Of course,” Tom said, insulted. “My goals have not changed. The purpose of this war was never simply to kill Harry Potter.” 

Minerva muttered, “Could have fooled me,” but he continued undeterred.

“His death was merely a precautionary measure, one that I have now found an alternative for.”

___________________________

Harry found his best friends in the library. Hermione, as usual, was leaning over an enormous book. She had a stack of completed essays beside her, along with a color-coded to-do list. Ron was craning his neck in an attempt to copy from the top essay without Hermione noticing.

“Hi guys!” he said, his voice lacking its normal enthusiasm.

Ron dropped his quill with a quick glance at Hermione. A second later Hermione closed her book, using a scrap of parchment as a bookmark.

“Harry!” she exclaimed.

“You’re back!” Ron added.

Harry shifted. “Um, yeah,” he said slowly, not wanting to tell them what was happening. But they had to know. “Guys? I’m - I found out something really horrible at Gringotts today.”

“What?” asked Ron.

“Well, when Voldemort-”

Ron and Hermione flinched at the name.

“-killed my parents, apparently he conquered their - I’m not quite sure what - but he can use their money now, and he owns all their stuff, and my stuff! And the worst part is, since he’s Lord of all these things I should’ve been Lord of, he’s my legal guardian.”

Ron and Hermione’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “What!” Ron gasped. “You mean - You-Know-Who is your guardian? Don’t they know he wants to kill you?”

“Well, obviously. But apparently it’s legal and there’s nothing anybody can do to stop him! But it’s only until I’m seventeen - when I am, I can take back control of all my stuff and get away from him. But until then, he controls me.”

“That sounds a bit like muggle nobility in the middle ages,” Hermione mused. “Just a bit.”

“That’s awful, mate,” Ron said.

“It gets worse,” Harry said. “Since he’s in charge of me now, he decided - and there’s nothing I can do - that I’ve got to withdraw from Hogwarts.”

Silence.

And then, “sorry? What did you just say?” from Hermione.

“Merlin’s saggy left ball, it can’t be true!” exclaimed Ron, aghast. “Nobody withdraws from Hogwarts!”

“It is true,” Harry said miserably. “He’s in the castle now, and he made me get all my things.”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione caught Harry in a tight hug, and Ron was quick to join them. “I don’t know what to say!” 

Harry hugged them back with all his might. “If I manage to escape from his house, will you meet me in Diagon Alley once in a while?” he asked, a sad sniff escaping him.

“Of course, mate, you don’t even have to ask!” Ron exclaimed, thumping his back.

“We’ll be there,” Hermione promised. “Just send us an owl. In fact, send us an owl every two days.”

“No promises,” Harry said, before wincing. His scar hurt. “I need to go.”

Reluctantly, they released him. 

“You will write, won’t you, if you have the chance?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “I will! I don’t know if he’ll let me but if he does, I will.”

Ron squeezed his shoulder. “Bye, mate,” he said.

“Bye, Harry,” said Hermione, biting her lip. Tears were welling in her brown eyes.

Harry’s scar started to burn even more. He backed away from them, waving and wishing for all the world that he didn’t have to go. However, he did have to leave, so he turned around and did just that, walking away without a backward glance, knowing that if he saw his best friends once more, he would never leave. And he had to, or Voldemort would have a reason to hurt them.

  
  


  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Voldemort was waiting outside the headmaster’s office for Harry when he left the library. “Took you long enough,” the man growled. 

“I was talking to my friends,” Harry said by way of explanation.

Voldemort turned around and stalked away, his robes flaring out behind him the way Snape’s did. Harry wondered if the overbearing Potions Master had learnt the technique from him.

“Come, Potter!” called Voldemort, and Harry’s scar throbbed. He hurried after Voldemort, lugging his trunk along with him.

Voldemort marched Harry to Snape’s quarters, and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, throwing it in. “Slytherin Manor,” he intoned, and pulled Harry with him into the roaring green flames.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape, who had hurried after the duo, could only watch as they disappeared through the flames to an unknown location.

“No,” Snape said as he caught Dumbledore’s glance. “He did not reveal the location of his manor to anybody.”

___________________________

Harry would have landed on his face as he stumbled out of the fireplace, if not for the iron-grip the Dark Lord had on his shoulder. He coughed as he was straightened, and then the Dark Lord was striding forward.

“Come, Potter, I will show you to your room.”

Harry followed the Dark Lo- Marvolo Slytherin out of the entrance room, wasting no time in observing his surroundings.

It was an imposing place, with black marble floors and snake sculptures. It didn’t look very homely, but considering its sole resident was a Dark Lord, it didn’t matter.

As they made their way further into the building, however, the atmosphere changed. Black marble gave way to warm wooden floors. The snake sculptures were replaced by family portraits and gorgeous artworks that seemed hypnotizing. Fortunately, the Dark Lord’s aura seemed to pull him along and he didn’t have much time to stare at the pieces.

Lord Voldemort, or Marvolo Slytherin, really, Harry wasn’t sure what to call him now, stopped suddenly in front of a wooden door.

“Your room,” said the man who had been the Dark Lord Voldemort but didn’t look like him anymore and maybe wasn’t as evil? Harry hoped he wasn’t as evil.

“Wait, what?” The words registered in his mind. 

“A room, Potter, generally has four walls, a floor, and a ceiling,” drawled Marvolo. “Rooms are often found within buildings, such as this one we are occupying at the moment.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know that! I mean… my room? Like,  _ my  _ room?”

“Yes, that is what I meant, that’s why I said it and why I brought you here.”

“Is it a prison cell?” Harry asked.

“No….... You’re a teenager, of course you will sleep in a  _ bedroom.  _ Did you expect a crib?” 

“No,” Harry said softly, “a dungeon, or a cupboard, really.” 

“What?” Marvolo narrowed his eyes as he looked at his ward’s bowed head. “I- Unpack your belongings and call an elf to lead you to the dining hall, Harry,” he finally said. This was not the time to pursue the subject. “I hope you can make yourself presentable without help, but you may call on Buttons for assistance if required.” The Dark Lord left the room in a flurry of dark robes, the door shutting with a soft  _ click  _ behind him.

The sound resonated in the silence, and Harry let a single tear fall.

___________________________

Left alone, the emerald eyed teenager took a moment to look around. The room was - luxurious, for the lack of a better word. It was thrice as big as the Gryffindor boys’ dorm, and done up in dark forest greens and warm woods. 

Harry missed the red and gold, now more than ever. 

The room was nothing special in itself. There was a queen-sized bed in the middle, with a mattress that seemed softer than clouds, pieces of furniture in dark mahogany, and a small balcony that looked over what seemed to be a forest.

Harry cracked open his trunk and sorted through his haphazardly packed clothes, tossing them into the humongous, ornately carved (with snakes) wardrobe that took up an entire wall beside the bathroom door. He didn’t really have any trinkets he could put on the desk or bedside table, they looked bare and impersonal… but he wasn't supposed to feel at home here… was he?

He sighed and unpacked his school books, placing them on the bookshelf next to the desk before unpacking his quill and parchment as well. If he tried hard enough, maybe it would feel like sitting in the library. Without Hermione’s lectures and Ron’s naggings to play some chess or Quidditch -

“Master Harry’s be taking too long, Master Marvolo sends Buttons!”

Harry started violently, pivoting on the balls of his feet to find a small elf standing a few feet away. It looked surprisingly healthy and happy, and was dressed in a clean green pillowcase. ‘I thought he would treat his elves like Malfoy does,’ he thought to himself.

“Hello Buttons. I’m sorry, I will be ready in a moment,” he replied when he remembered the elf’s words. He did not want to keep a Dark Lord waiting, so he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and smoothed a few creases on his robes before deeming himself presentable.

It was time to face the music. 

___________________________

The Dark Lord’s dining room was surprisingly not intimidating. It had an unnecessarily long wooden table, but Harry was pretty sure that was a rich people thing and not a Dark Lord one. And of course, the entire room had been Slytherinified with a green satin cloth covering the table and silver cutlery. Harry gulped as he noticed that only two places had been set. One at the head of the table, and one right next to the Dark Lord occupying it. He slowly made his way to the opposite side and sunk down into the cushy chair, avoiding any eye contact with his new ‘guardian.’

“Harry,” said Voldemort. “I see you’ve made it here alive.” He spread his napkin on his lap. He definitely looked like a rich person. Harry nervously reached for his own cloth and followed his table companion’s actions. He had no idea how to use all these different forks and knives! Was there any sort of punishment for using the wrong one? Merlin, the Dark Lord’s punishments would definitely be worse than a few belt lashings! There was a reason for the title ‘Dark Lord’ after all, and it definitely wasn’t the man’s preference for dark clothing.

“Does your family say Grace before a meal?” Marvolo enquired. He was trying to make his ward feel comfortable, and if he had to follow petty muggle traditions, he might as well do it to secure the boy’s loyalty.

Harry shook his head. He barely had time to get out of the way before those whales gobbled up his hard work, saying Grace was the last thing on his mind when he was trying to save scraps for himself.

“Very well. I was unsure about what you like, hence I asked my elves to prepare a bit of everything. Feel free to choose whatever you like,” Marvolo said. Why on earth was the boy so nervous? He had been perfectly polite and nice the entire day, and he hadn’t even cursed anyone. (Death threats aside, those were as vital to him as breathing, compromise must exist in relationships of any sort, Marvolo decided.)

Harry let out a soft breath, as dishes began appearing on the table. Some he recognized as he had either made them or eaten them at Hogwarts, while others seemed completely exotic, probably from across the world.

He watched from the corner of his eye as the Dark Lord spooned things onto his own plate, before offering the dish to him. Harry nervously took it and plated a tiny portion for himself. He could get through this ordeal if he followed the Dark Lord’s actions, right?

___________________________

Harry could not get through the ordeal even if he blatantly stared at the Dark Lord’s every action and followed them to the T. On the bright side, he knew which fork to use for appetizers and which knives to use for the various meats. 

There were so many parts to this meal. Every bite was an effort, trying to remember where a particular food had come from and which fork to pick it up with and if it was okay to drink water this often. Did Voldemort have a pattern? He couldn’t tell. It was frightening, not knowing what to do, not knowing what if - what if…

And he’d used the wrong fork for the broccoli! Merlin, he’d done it now, he was going to die, or at the very least it would hurt - he would be punished, and it would be so much worse than what he was used to!

“Please,” Harry begged, his voice quiet, “please don’t - please make it quick, whatever - please, please, I didn’t mean it, honest, it was an accident-t.” He hiccupped and drew his legs up onto his chair, wrapping his arms around them and burying his face in his knees. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry, please no?”

Marvolo could only stare in dawning horror. What was the boy saying? Why was he so upset, that he was curled up on his chair with his shoulders shaking? What had Marvolo done wrong? He’d only had the boy for one short day! How had he managed to mess up so badly?

He was a Dark Lord, for Merlin’s sake! He shouldn’t be making mistakes as colossal as this, however he had managed to upset the boy so much!

“Harry,” he said. “Harry?”

The boy looked up with glassy green eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Please,” he said again, and Marvolo frowned.

“Please what?”

Harry let out a sob. “Please don’t hurt me!”

“What? I’m not going to hurt you, Harry.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s what everyone says!” He sobbed again.

Marvolo was panicking. (“Dark Lords don’t panic!”)

He quickly called for Buttons. “Take him to his room and let him sleep. You’re to stay by his side the entire night.” The elf nodded and popped away with the boy.

Marvolo stared at the half-full plate next to his. Weren’t teenage boys supposed to eat much more than a measly piece of fish and two spoons of vegetables? He certainly had when he was a teenager, and he had no memory of that being unusual… and there had been rationing then!

Maybe Harry didn’t like the food he had ordered the elves to set out? Marvolo surveyed the table. Surely that couldn’t be it, there was so much variety.

Buttons appeared less than ten minutes later wringing his hands in distress. “Master Marvolo sir, Master Harry’s bes hiding!”

Hiding? Was the boy trying to escape?

“Take me to him,” he ordered. The elf popped him to the boy’s location… which was in the room Marvolo had given him. Harry Potter was curled up in a ball under the bed, crying.

What was this? It didn’t look anything like an escape attempt - he sort of wished it had been, that would have been easier to deal with.

“Potter,” he said, kneeling down to better see the boy, “Harry?”

“Don’t hurt me,” said Harry, his voice little more than a broken whisper. “I’ll be good, promise.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Marvolo said, trying to make his voice gentle. “Will you come out?”

The boy whimpered, looking up and around with wide, scared eyes. “That’s what they always say. They  _ lie.” _

“Who, Harry?” he asked. “Who lies?”

The boy flinched.  _ “Them.  _ Vernon and Petunia and Dudley and Piers and the others and Umbridge.”

“Write those names down,” he muttered to Buttons. If these people really had hurt his ward, they would suffer for it.

“I’m not them, Harry,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t trust you.”

“You can trust me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Harry’s eyes flew open. “You’re the Dark Lord! You’ve been trying to  _ kill  _ me my entire life!” he said angrily, wiping at his face with one sleeve.

Marvolo conceded that point. “But I have never lied to you, Harry. And I swear, I will not hurt you.”

Green emerald eyes finally looked at him.

“I suppose that’s true,” conceded Harry, his arms close to his chest and his body taut like the wire supporting a tension bridge. “But… but…”

“If I was going to hurt you,” Marvolo reasoned, “I could have done it already. But I haven’t.”

Harry let out a shaky breath. 

Harry seemed troubled, and still extremely skittish, but he slowly scooted out. Marvolo straightened and moved a step back to give the boy some space.

Harry sat at the edge of his bed, looking like he was ready to bolt. Sensing his nervousness, Marvolo pulled up the nearby desk chair and sat down gracefully with one knee over the other, ensuring there was plenty of space between the two males while simultaneously being close enough to stop the boy from fleeing if he tried. 

The boy fidgeted under his crimson gaze as Marvolo tried to figure out how to start the conversation. “...Harry,” he said after a loaded silence, the boy’s name heavy on his tongue. “I think we have a lot to learn about each other,” he continued slowly.

The boy huffed something resembling a laugh. “I thought this day couldn’t get any stranger.” 

Marvolo drummed his fingers on his knee. After a few moments of silence - “Speak, Potter.”

Emerald eyes narrowed. “Can you decide if you want to call me Harry or Potter? Your mood swings give whiplashes.”

Marvolo bit back an irritated retort. Snapping at the boy would not help his cause. “Fine,  _ Harry,  _ I shall endeavour to call you as such. Now, speak.”

“About  _ what?” _

Let it be known that the Dark Lord was  _ not  _ known for his patience. “Your relatives, boy!” Or his anger management.

Fortunately, Harry was not cowed and simply gave him an unimpressed look. “What about them? I’m never going back again.”

Marvolo physically bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from lashing out. He should have attended those yoga classes Lucius had suggested.

“You should seriously consider anger management,” Harry sighed, but before Marvolo could lose the last of his restraints, he continued, “What do you want to know?”

Marvolo folded his hands. “How did they treat you?” he asked, already certain that he would not like the answer.

Harry shrugged. Marvolo narrowed his eyes.  _ “Words, _ please.”

“As well as you expect a magical child to be treated in a magic-hating household.”

“I would  _ expect _ any decent household, magic-hating as it may be, to put that aside for the sake of a child. I would also  _ assume _ that such decency does not exist.”

“Your assumption is correct.”

Marvolo stood up from his seat, magic flaring in barely restrained fury. The boy had obviously gotten a hold of himself, as he barely flinched at the sudden movement.

“And you wonder why we despise muggles,” Marvolo said softly, tone contradicting the raw anger distorting his handsome features.

Harry scowled. “You hate and kill  _ innocents.  _ And it's not like your pureblood followers are any better. I wonder if they know that their master is just a pathetic  _ half-blood.” _

Marvolo’s face changed from furious to shocked to furious again in an instant.  _ “Where did you learn that?” _ he hissed, almost slipping into Parseltongue.

“You told me yourself,” Harry snorted. “This is why you don’t go around sticking your soul pieces into various objects,  _ Tom.” _

Marvolo went deathly still. He could have been mistaken for a finely painted marble statue if not for the rise and fall of his chest

“How do you know about my horcruxes?” he asked quietly.

“I seem to have an omniscient Headmaster, he told me everything,” Harry said cheerfully, the gloomy air around the Dark Lord not deterring him.

Marvolo narrowed his eyes. That Albus Dumbledore - he would not be around spilling secrets for much longer if Marvolo had his way.

“You obviously seem to be doing alright,” he bit out. “It’s your bedtime, I expect you to be up early tomorrow.”

As he headed towards the door, Harry hurriedly took out his wand and cast a Tempus.

“My bedtime? It’s not even ten yet!”

“Be up at six, Potter!”

  
  


___________________________

  
  


Sure enough, Harry was dumped out of bed by an irate house-elf right as the clock struck six. “Master Harry is not up!” declared Buttons. “Master Harry is to be eating breakfast in an hour!”

Harry sighed heavily. “I’m up!” He scurried towards the bathroom to escape Buttons’ unnerving stare.He hurried through his morning routine and shower, before realizing - “Clothes!” He had no clean clothes to wear! 

“Master Harry must hurry, breakfast is at 7!” a squeaky voice floated through the crack in the door. 

“Buttons!” Harry nearly jumped, slipped, and cracked his head on the marble shower floor. “I don’t have clothes to wear,” he peeked out from behind the shower curtain to glance at the dirty pile of clothes he had shedded minutes ago.

“Master Harry’s closet has clothes, can Master Harry not wear them?” the elf asked from the bedroom, and Harry heard a door open.

“I didn’t have time to wash the clothes I brought from Hogwarts….” he said.  _ “Your master  _ decided to pluck me from school on a weekday - the elves only do laundry on the weekends,” he rambled on as he reached for the towel he had had the foresight to bring in with him. “So now, I’m stuck here with no clothes in the Dark Lord’s Manor and-”

Harry stepped out of the bathroom with the towel around his waist to see a brand new outfit laying on his bed. 

“Master Harry must change and attend breakfast,” Buttons ordered, and was gone with a pop. 

“Well then.”

Harry eyed the clothes with trepidation. The Dark Lord would surely not curse his clothes after all that had happened. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he got dressed in the white dress shirt and black pants, before frowning at the robes. It was a lot like a regular school robe, except instead of being completely black, it had a green trim. 

“Slytherins,” he grumbled, pulling the robe on. Arguing with the Dark Lo- Marvolo was something he wasn’t awake enough for. Throwing himself one last glance in the ornate mirror (the frame looked like a snake coiling around the reflective part. It was ridiculous) by the bedroom entrance, he deemed himself presentable enough.

“His Highness can learn that this is the most presentable I will be if I’m woken up at 6 in the bloody morning,” Harry grumbled to himself as he walked down a hallway, not really paying attention to where he was going.

“Alright, I’m up-” Harry flung open a door that looked a lot like the dining room door, only to stop in his tracks. He glanced around. He looked left. He looked right. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Nope, he was not seeing things.

He had entered what seemed like a costume room in a theatre. There were racks upon racks of black death eater robes, along with other fancy clothing that would not look out of place at a costume party. There was a shelf full of white ivory half masks - Death Eater masks.

….did Voldemort buy these outfits in bulk or something?

Also, what the hell was a lace white  _ bridal  _ gown doing amongst all these cloaks? It seemed like the star attraction of the room, placed as it was on a mannequin right under a spotlight.

At least Marvolo had good taste in dresses, if the collection in the open closet in one corner of the room said anything.

Harry backed out of the spacious room. He did  _ not  _ want to know what went on in there. Quickly shutting the door behind him, he hissed out, “Buttons!”

The elf popped into existence, and Harry wasted no time in begging the little creature to take him to the dining room. 

He really didn’t want his new guardian to find him trapezing through his exotic collection of clothings.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


Marvolo was seated at the head of the table like last time, and impatiently waved Harry into the seat next to him. Harry could hardly look at the man without thinking of the room he’d just been in. Who knew the Dark Lord was into fashion? 

“I see you’ve finally arrived,” said Marvolo.

Harry swallowed. “Ikindofgotlost,” he stammered out.

Marvolo sighed. “See that it doesn’t happen again,” he said (as if Harry got lost intentionally!) and reached for a coffee pot. He poured himself a cup, added in some milk, and then dropped seven sugar cubes into it.

Seven.

Whole.

Sugar cubes.

Harry gaped at him. 

“What?” sniffed Marvolo, sipping his painfully sweet concoction. 

“You don’t drink your coffee black like your soul?” 

Marvolo narrowed his eyes at him. “I might be a Dark Lord, but even I wouldn’t touch the travesty that is black coffee with a seven foot pole. I’m not  _ that  _ evil.”

“That - that is liquid cavities!” exclaimed Harry.

Marvolo sneered. “I’m a Dark Lord, I don’t  _ get _ cavities.”

“Oh, is it because one of your death eaters is secretly a dentist?”

Marvolo’s growl warned Harry from continuing this line of questioning, but Harry was nothing if not a Gryffindor. Besides, if Marvolo was his new guardian and was feeding him and providing him with a whole  _ room,  _ the least he could do was make sure he stayed healthy. Didn’t old people get diabetes really easily? 

“ _ Seven  _ sugar cubes is just excessive, though,” Harry pointed out. “At this point, you can just skip the coffee all together.”

“That’s it!” Marvolo slammed his cup onto the table. “You are grounded, young man!”

Harry simply stared at him for a few seconds, before going back to his pancakes. “You could definitely do with some anger management classes.”


End file.
